


Solving Problems

by BirdShapedBoba



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Animal Transformation, Animals, Canon Lesbian Character, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Character Death, Cults, F/F, Fantasy, Homophobia, Lesbian Character, Murder Mystery, Original Character(s), Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:28:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28877196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BirdShapedBoba/pseuds/BirdShapedBoba
Summary: The village in which Laurence Caldwell and Haydn Woodard live has started to have strange strings of murder. Each gets more gruesome, and they can’t quite prove what’s happening. Meanwhile, Haydn is trying to discover herself under the pressure of a town that isn’t very accepting.





	Solving Problems

**Author's Note:**

> Uhhh first story moment  
> A little character intro thing.

As the tip of the sun was vanishing behind the lush flat hills lining the horizon, a trickling stream caught it’s crimson light, causing it to look as if blood were running through the lands. The stream faded into a river that had cut through the hills over many moons. Further down the river the water became treacherous. It flooded over rocks and around trees it had fallen itself; when the rainy season came and the greedy river took the rain and grew. Plentiful amounts of trees stood tall over the land. A handful of these trees were scarred with the marks of antlers, claws, and teeth.  
A herd of white-tailed deer, perhaps a couple dozen, rise from their bedding place to go to the river. A proud, heavy-horned buck stood waiting for his doe. His silhouette was black against the warm sky. Soon enough his doe joined him, a beautiful young creature, she was. Her typically cream pelt was a grey-brown from the falling sun. A younger buck considers a challenge towards the older, stronger creature, but upon his calm, wise, yet vicious gaze, decided it could be saved for another day.  
With a huff, the larger buck began heading down the hillside, his steps full of grace and sureness. The doe follows immediately behind, her steps elegant. The foolish young buck tried to lead before the eldest, but was met by an angered stamp and lowered antlers. Discouraged once more, he falls in with the rest of the herd behind the large buck and his mate. The large group of deer make their way down the hillside, the sound of the running water growing louder as they near the river.  
Not far off from the herd was a single beast with glowing eyes and ill intent. However, the beast’s fur was well groomed and he wore a large, red collar around his neck. A bell that had been pried open so that the ball inside causing the ringing had fallen out hung from the collar, making the beast completely silent. Upon the destroyed bell was the engraved shape of a single tree. The beast’s paws made quiet and steady progress carrying the heavy creature nearer to the river and nearer to the deer. Although a soon murderer, perhaps, of the unsuspecting creatures, most would see this beast as elegant and beautiful, a symbol of loyalty and spirit.  
The wolf.  
This particular wolf was extremely intelligent, it’s eyes filled with knowledge but ignorance, just as a human. A young wolf it was, young and foolish, just like every child. But as it crept closer to the deer, who were now calmly drinking at the river, it’s gaze became focused and it’s instinct came quickly. He picked out the weakest, a young doe who was drinking a bit off from the herd. Her ears flicked nonchalantly, as she was unaware of the gruesome fate she was soon to meet. Once near enough in his mind, he broke off into a run. The doe’s head swung around to see the attacker, her eyes wide. She turned to run, but was a few moments too late; the wolf caught her back leg in his maw and bit down.  
From the sudden force at her back end, her front legs slipped in the muddy ground and buckled beneath her. With a wet thump, she fell nose-first into the soggy earth. She let out a cry, attempting to stand once more and escape the beast. The wolf lunged at her throat to take the life of the young doe, but his teeth only snapped on air as the large buck threw the wolf with a swing of his head. The beast met the muddy ground with a painful thwack and traveled head over paws for a small moment. Upon finding his grounding, he hastily stood.  
He stared at the far larger creature. It stared back, a challenge and immeasurable furiosity swimming in its gaze. The doe the beast had attacked called and struggled for help in the mud, each attempt to get up ending in failure. Blood flowed from the wound, every movement sending a fresh pump of blood that mixed with the river and mud. The buck spoke.  
“Give heed to my words, Wolf. Your assault was meaningless; for I see that you are well fed. You are supposed to be loyal and wise; but I see that you are a murderous beast. There is a code you must follow here. It seems you do not understand, although it has been sworn by beasts of your nature to follow them. Because of these rules, and because you are well fed, you may not have our doe. And because you have injured her leg, we can not bring her back to where we bed. If she is left here, on this bank, it is sure you will take her. But we mustn't taint the water we drink from by giving her to the hungry river; that will bring sickness to my herd and the other creatures who drink from it.” He lowers his head to the doe, gently pressing his nose against her head. She was letting out horrible, pitiful noises. The wolf replied, sneering.  
“Foolish buck; you assume I am coming here and killing her for myself. I have travelled from very far,” the buck made an inquisitive look, “yes, farther than any of you creatures have. I have a pack to feed.” The wolf hungrily eyes the injured doe, satisfied with the lie he has told. The buck throws his head angrily, his voice booming.  
“I am no fool, beast! I know how creatures of your type work. They would not send a single wolf out to hunt; for it ends as it has ended here on this day. Tell the truth, now, or the raccoons and vultures will be picking at your mutilated being and your spirit will be lost wandering the darkest woods.”  
The wolf is unaffected by the large, dangerous creature’s threat. He speaks again, nearer to the truth. “I am the Master’s personal scout. But am I not allowed to have fun? I am a wolf, a purebred wolf! You are selfish to not allow me to take the soul of one of your comrades; look how many you have!” The buck takes a threatening step towards the wolf.  
“You dull beast! You expect me to believe you are a personal servant to the Master- no- King himself? You are a greedy, stupid beast. Would the King truly need you? No! He would have you killed. And not that I need to mention, but the King does not have any true wolves as his servants.”  
A smile creeps upon the collared beast’s muzzle. “Perhaps it is true you are not as foolish as I previously assumed, deer! I am not a, as you call, ‘true’ wolf. I am the strongest creature of this land; the most intelligent and the most advanced.”  
A flicker of fear shows in the buck’s eyes. “You are lying- you are not a Weihr. You are far too young, far too stupid. If you can prove you are a Weihr, you can have our doe.”  
“It is a painful transformation, buck. I am afraid I cannot prove to you such.” Another lie. “My only proof lies upon my neck, the broken bell has the mark of the Master. See and bow to me for the disrespect you have shown.” He throws his muzzle to the sky, exposing the collar under his thick fur.  
The buck cautiously nears the wolf and his gaze falls upon the single tree etched into the bell. He takes a few steps back after seeing it. Under the wolf’s command, he bows. His doe does the same. The wolf’s lip curls in mockery. “Look at you now, bowing before me as many before.” At these words, the buck stands.  
“Do not think I will follow you because of this. Besides- I find it pitiful a strong, wild beast such as yourself has been domesticated. Quite pitiful indeed.” The wolf lowers his head in shame. “Look at you, now. Realizing that you could be free, but instead work for a murderer.”  
“Master is no murderer. He takes what’s his. And if lives are what he must take, lives are what he must take. I assure you their souls are rested and their lives were taken for good.” The beast’s voice shakes at first but evens out as he lifts his head to challenge the massive creature before him. The buck scoffs.  
“Take her, now, and leave.”  
“I am afraid I do not need your doe. See if she’s here by tomorrow.” The wolf turns tail and disappears into the brush, the angry voice of the buck ringing through the forest in threats. The wolf suddenly halted, hearing something in the trees above him.  
He gave a low growl, his muzzle raised to the sky. When the rustling in the trees silenced, he lowered his muzzle to continue walking. The moment he did, however, he was thrown face first into the marshy floor by a sudden weight on his back. He tried to shake the mysterious being off of his back, but failed. With a vicious snarl, he rolled to his back to put the attacker in the mud. He stood when its paws stopped flailing, and turned to the attacker.  
“Absolute idiot- Miss Woodard?” Before the wolf was a mud-covered caracal. Her pelt was a sandy looking russet, with a cream-white muzzle, chest, and paws. The fur now, however, was (as said) covered in mud and stuck out awkwardly from it at some places. She had brilliant blue eyes that shone with amusement and a teasing smile across her snout. Two large ears with black tufts on the ends sat on her head. A blue collar, with a pried open bell like the wolf’s, rested upon her neck. She opened her maw to speak, but did so in a mocking deep voice;  
“Greetings and Salutations! O’ Wise Knight, Sir Caldwell! May those who hear his name quiver in fear!” She stands and shakes out her pelt, letting out a trill of amusement. Mud flew in every direction. The wolf closed his eyes and tilted his head down as the mud sprung from her pelt in an assault on his own.  
“Must you be so unclean? You could have washed in the river. And, please call me by my first name, Miss Woodard. I do not need the title Sir…” the caracal opens her mouth to speak but is interrupted. “Or any of the other titles you assigned me just a few moments ago.”  
“You’re really no fun nowadays, Laurence. Besides, you’re never around home during the day. Hell, it’s night now and you’re like, just heading back. I’m more responsible than you and I’m younger. And you work for King! And I don’t! It’s not fair-!”  
“I am far more mature than you, it’s obvious from your tantrums.”  
“I don’t have tantru-“  
“And your protests. You wonder why I work for Master and it’s because I am the mature one. We needn’t have this conversation, Miss Woodard.” He flicks his ear dismissively.  
“Also, Laurence, if you’re making me call you by your first name, stop calling me Miss. It’s gross.”  
“Just call you Woodard?”  
“I hate that name.. call me by my first. I don’t care it’s disrespectful.”  
Laurence waves his tail as he thinks of the stubborn little caracal’s first name. It had been a while for him to call her a name other than “Miss Woodard.”  
The caracal notices this hesitance immediately. “Are you serious?”  
“Hush,” his eyes darken with focus. “Miss… Miss…. Haydn!”  
“You are the most ridiculous beast.. I’ve ever laid my eyes upon...” She drags a paw down her face. “I’m exasperated by your stupidity. I’ve never seen anything like it.”  
“You mustn’t be rude; I was trained to speak of and to in titles. Besides, you’ve never expressed your dislike for Miss or Woodard.”  
“Enough of this conversation. I’m like, extremely bored with it. And you. Besides, I have to clean myself again because you smashed me into the mud,” she flicks her paw and again mud flies off. “You’re no better. Where’d you pick up all that dirt from, anyways? Anyone would think you’ve bathed in it.”  
“That was your fault, Miss Haydn. You should not have snuck up on me that way.” After hearing her statement about him, he looks at his sides and chest. Mud was plastered through the whole of his typically clean white fur. Laurence returns his gaze to the caracal. “You have no reason or authority to question me about my whereabouts.”  
“What’d I say about ‘Miss’?” Haydn’s ears flatten and she glares at Laurence. “And why can’t I know?”  
“My apologies, m’lady.” Laurence replies mockingly, ignoring her question. Haydn lets out a frustrated hiss. “Also, why is your bell broken? You know it’s against the rules.” Laurence finished with a wave of his tail.  
“Why’s yours?” Haydn tilts her head.  
“Important business. It was of request.” At this, the little caracal scoffs. She opens her maw to reply;  
“Why was one placed on your collar, then?” She changes the subject before Laurence could object. “Do you think King would like to know of the blood on your muzzle? Don’t think I hadn’t noticed; but I’m so used to it from you by now it’s not surprising any more.”  
“I was told by Mr. Evans that Master said-“  
“Why do you call him Master??”  
“He is my Master…”  
“His literal name is King. He is the King. Call him King.”  
“If it’ll prevent you from complaining, so be it. As I was saying, Mr. Evans said that… King… ordered that if he sees me with blood on my face again he’ll drown me in my own. Don’t tell him, please.” Laurence’s tail droops and he looks at the caracal with a pleading expression. Haydn ignored this.  
“Another question. Why does everybody talk so weirdly?”  
Laurence tilts his head to the side. “I am not sure what you are talking about, Haydn. Everybody talks completely normally. Except you, sometimes.”  
“I don’t speak strangely! That’s like, totally wrong!”  
“You say ‘like’ needlessly and incorrectly. Within every conversation you say it several times,” Haydn waved her short tail side to side frustratedly. “I barely understand you when you are upset, too.” The little caracal turned from Laurence. She began to speak softly;  
“Laurence? Why do you think I was put with the lower class? I’m perfectly smart and able to be like the higher ups. With you and Evans, I mean.”  
The wolf flicks his ear dismissively. “I’m sure your able. It.. it’s because you’re a caracal. Foxes and raccoons aren’t allowed either. There are many others I couldn’t name. It’s the simple fact that those species are more.. Sneaky. Thieving.” Haydn sighs.  
“I’m going back to the kingdom. Or village. Or whatever. I-“  
“Or whatever is a strange way of speech too.”  
“Shut up.” She flicks some mud off of her rightfront paw. “I don’t know what to call it at this point. It’s quite small for a kingdom.” Laurence dipped his head in agreement. “I’m leaving,” she began running off, chunks of mud falling still from her pelt.  
Laurence hastily chased after her. “Wait- Miss- I mean, Haydn! Don’t tell! I-I’m sorry!” He couldn’t catch up, as caracals are fast animals. Even as he ran as fast as his paws could carry him, Haydn still was ahead and in fact was continually gaining room behind her. Eventually he gave up, knowing he couldn’t reach her at any time. Besides, the wolf needed to wash the blood off of him before even thinking of approaching the kingdom.  
He takes a sharp right to head in the direction of the river. Once there, he submerges his face in the water. Bringing up a paw, he wipes at his muzzle. A light pink trail of water flows downstream from him.  
Laurence lifts his head from the water and gasps for air. He then lowers his head to take a drink from the water. Lifting it once more, he turns his head in the direction Haydn left. The wolf inhales slowly, shaking his head at the exchange he had with the stubborn little caracal. Hesitantly, Laurence dips a paw into the water. He grits his teeth as the freezing water seems to make his fur tighten on his pelt. Slowly he submerges himself, the mud rinsing out from his fur. Once cleaned, he turns and once again begins running off behind Haydn.


End file.
